


A Little Under-Rehearsed

by sociallyawkward_fics



Series: The Power of Love [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Family, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Communicating, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon's Parent, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Immortal Roach (The Witcher), Immortality, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Love, M/M, Magic, Magical Realism, immortal ciri, parental geralt of rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:29:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28393155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sociallyawkward_fics/pseuds/sociallyawkward_fics
Summary: Their party has finally made it to Kaer Morhen. Now for the hard part: Geralt has to tell his family that he turned two humans and a horse immortal.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Roach, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Power of Love [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677382
Comments: 56
Kudos: 363





	A Little Under-Rehearsed

**Author's Note:**

> May or may not have gotten distracted and forgotten to keep working on this series, oops lol. I only have one fic left planned for this series, but I'm open to ideas if anyone has any! 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy this! It's not quite up to my usual personal standards, but I'm still warming back up after not writing for a couple months so it's gonna be a little more stilted than I usually am. Also, I went and edited a few typos that were bugging me in the first couple fics in this series, so those might read better, now.

Travelling to Kaer Morhen was more difficult this winter. Not only did Jaskier and Ciri slow his pace, but Geralt hadn’t even found Ciri until the frosts had already started. Meaning the mountains already had layers of snow to trudge through before they even got close to the keep. Needless to say, when they finally saw the old castle in the distance, the relief among their small party was palpable. 

Thankfully, Vesemir had remembered to leave the gates open for stragglers, this year. Geralt had been accidentally locked out far too many times for his own liking, and he wasn’t looking forward to trying to scale the walls with two fragile humans freezing their asses off below him.

Though perhaps Geralt should have somehow sent a message ahead about his guests, because the glares and defensive stances were not exactly the friendliest way to greet new people.

The only people besides witchers who had been welcomed into the keep before were mages and sorcerers, which Ciri and Jaskier were certainly not. Sure, Ciri carried that ozone-scent of chaos everywhere she went, but it wasn’t strong and refined like a trained sorceress’s would be, clearly untrained and unharnessed. And Jaskier, somewhat embarrassingly, just smelled like Geralt and his own perfumes (thankfully the light-scented ones that Geralt’s witcher senses didn’t mind).

“Geralt,” Vesemir said slowly. “Who are your guests?”

Geralt shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. “My Child Surprise and my… bard.”

After a few moments of awkward silence where it became clear that Geralt wasn’t going to continue, Jaskier stepped forward.

“Good afternoon gentlemen, I am Jaskier, perhaps you’ve heard some of my ballads around. It’s a pleasure to meet all of you. Really, I would love to stick around and chat, I am much more of a people person than Geralt, but I am quite dead on my feet at the moment and I believe I need a nap.”

No one moved. No one spoke. Ciri subtly shifted so she was more hidden behind Geralt.

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Love, where is your room? I’d like to lay down.”

Geralt awkwardly cleared his throat, thanking (not for the first time) the fact that witchers were unable to blush. He murmured the directions to Jaskier, who immediately marched off through the kitchen door to move up the stairs. Ciri trailed behind with her own bag, looking much like a lost little duckling.

After a few long moments, Lambert spoke up, “Should’ve guessed that you’d be the one to wind up with a magic-wielding Child Surprise.”

Geralt glared. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you make bad choices.”

“What about you, the time you--”

Eskel interrupted, clearly just trying to stop the fight before it began. “The bard smells like you.”

Vesemir raised an eyebrow. “And uses pet names, too. Something to tell us, Geralt?”

Geralt glared. 

“No,” he decided, and stormed off to the stairs to lay down with Jaskier.

Later that night, after an extremely awkward and tense dinner, Jaskier and Geralt were curled together in front of the hearth in Geralt’s room, a fur draped over their shoulders. Ciri snored quietly behind them in Geralt’s bed, as there wasn’t yet a room clean for her since Vesemir hadn’t been expecting guests.

“You should tell them,” Jaskier murmured against the stubble of his cheek.

“Why?” Geralt grunted, pulling Jaskier closer. “It’s our business, not theirs.”

“They’re your family, Geralt. You don’t have to tell them, and I won’t make you like I did Ciri, but I think they’d like to know.”

“And have to deal with them the whole winter afterwards? I don’t think so.”

Jaskier laughed. “I suppose that’s brothers for you.”

Geralt groaned. “They’re  _ insufferable _ .”

Jaskier laughed again and pressed a kiss to Geralt’s cheek. “Yes, and I’m sure they think the same of you. Come now, let’s go to bed. I have a feeling we won’t be allowed the luxury of sleeping in.”

  
  


His family took to Ciri better than they took to Jaskier, and Geralt couldn’t exactly fault them for it. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be surprised. Sure, Ciri was a force of nature. She was kind and sassy, and she had very little grip on her powers, but she came in a bite-sized portion.

Jaskier, on the other hand, was eight disasters rolled into one. Experiencing Jaskier was like running away from a tornado through a blizzard during an earthquake. He was like drowning and taking in your first breath all at once. Jaskier was a hurricane, and everyone else was simply a frail tree along the coast.

Geralt didn’t complain when his brothers and Vesemir started taking up most of Ciri’s time, beginning her training. Frankly, Geralt could use the help. Lambert trained Ciri on the pendulums. Eskel showed Ciri how to run the walls. Vesemir worked them all to the bone with sword technique, Geralt included.

And Geralt took his own time to train (in-between Vesemir’s chores, at least) before the snows made it impossible. Soon they’d be locked inside the keep, tensions high, until spring struck, and Geralt wasn’t going to stay cooped up for longer than he needed. This left Jaskier majorly to his own devices, exploring the keep and working his way through their extensive library, when he wasn’t working on his own set of projects from Vesemir.

Geralt thought a lot about how to broach the subject of Jaskier with his family, though. It often ended with Vesemir shouting at him about his form, berating him for getting distracted. At least Ciri seemed to find that funny, but Geralt could feel himself getting more and more tense as the heavier storms of the winter rolled in.

How in the  _ hell _ was he supposed to explain to his  _ father _ that he’d gone and turned a human immortal because he liked them too much.

And yet, in the end, Geralt didn’t really have a choice about when it happened.

The snow was finally too deep and heavy for them to be leaving the keep aside from tending to the animals in the stables, and the witchers in attendance for the winter were beginning to get more and more antsy. Tensions were growing higher by the day, and it was only a matter of time before a fight broke out. Geralt’s money was on the first fight being between Vesemir and Lambert, just like the past several years. Geralt did not expect that  _ he _ would be the subject of the first explosion.

“Wait, Jaskier,” Ciri said at the dinner table one evening, dutifully ignoring the glares the witchers were shooting at each other. “Since you don’t age, does that mean you’ll still look like this when Geralt looks like Uncle Vesemir?”

Eskel, Lambert, and Vesemir froze. Geralt felt his eyes go wide. A spoonful of stew slopped out of Lambert’s spoon and splashed back into his bowl. Jaskier and Ciri seemed oblivious to the energy in the room.

“I’m not sure,” Jaskier said, tapping the handle of his spoon against his chin in thought. “We’ll have to ask Yennefer next time we visit, won’t we?”

Ciri nodded and went back to eating. Jaskier did the same. Then he looked up, cheeks puffed out with the food stuffed into his mouth, and finally seemed to notice the tension at the table.

“Geralt,” Vesemir said lowly. “What did you get this poor boy mixed into?”

Eskel, far more level-headed, frowned. “I couldn’t  _ smell _ any chaos on him, aside from his lute. Are you sure he’s fully human?”

“I’m sorry, Jaskier doesn’t  _ what _ ?” Lambert snapped.

Jaskier’s wide eyes met Geralt’s. Geralt shrugged. Jaskier shrugged. Ciri rolled her eyes at the both of them.

“Jaskier’s immortal,” she said. “I thought Geralt would’ve already told you, since he calls you his family.”

Vesemir pinched the bridge of his nose. “The bard is immortal. Geralt turned a human bard immortal.”

“And Roach,” Ciri said.

Eskel shot an incredulous look at Geralt. “Your fucking  _ horse _ is immortal? How long do horses  _ live _ ?”

Geralt shrugged again. “Apparently 20-30 years.”

Eskel blinked. “That doesn’t make sense. Scorpion is in his 40s.”

Lambert slammed his hands onto the table. “Fuck the  _ horses _ , can we go back to how Geralt turned a human  _ immortal _ ?!”

“In my defense,” Geralt said, “I wasn’t aware I had done it until a few weeks ago.”

“How do you not know you turned a whole human immortal?!” Lambert shouted

Geralt scowled. “How am I supposed to know how humans age? We’re witchers!”

Eskel blinked. “He’s got a point.”

Vesemir held his hand up and the table went silent. “Geralt. How?”

Witchers may not have been able to blush, but Geralt felt uncomfortably warm in that moment. “I love him.”

Vesemir stared at him. “That doesn’t answer the question, son.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Melitele, you’re all useless. I had to have Yennefer explain it to me after Geralt did because he’s so rubbish at communication. Somehow, Geralt’s love for me -- and Ciri, and his horse -- is so strong that it’s infused itself with chaos and become magical, and now Roach and I no longer age. Ciri still seems to age so far, but it’s likely she’ll slow down or stop sometime in her twenties. Barring any fatal injuries or illness, our little family will live on as long as Geralt does.”

The table was silent. Lambert looked constipated, Vesemir seemed to be rather resigned, and Eskel just looked confused. Ciri giggled at them, and Geralt could only hope that she wouldn’t inherit his inability to communicate as she grew up.

“Any questions?” Jaskier asked.

“Yeah,” Eskel said. “How long are goats supposed to live, usually?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, y'all! I hope you enjoyed! I love hearing from you guys, so please leave a comment or come visit me on tumblr at sociallyawkward--fics!!
> 
> Edit: This was my 69th fic published on ao3........ nice


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